


I shake all over, but I feel alright

by thegoldenrin



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Jack Dalton deserves everything and Mac will make sure he knows, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Pretty much in that order, Sleepy Sex, Trans Male Character, ftm!Mac, jack loves his baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoldenrin/pseuds/thegoldenrin
Summary: The door creaks open quietly, steady footsteps moving that wonderful scent towards him. Jack feels the corners of his mouth twitch into a delighted smile, unfiltered by wakefulness. The mattress dips ever so slightly, and he feels the presence leaning down over him like a physical brand. Goosebumps break out over his entire body, when the faint caress of warm breath ghosts over his earlobe and a low voice whispers, “Good morning, big guy.”(they have sex. that's pretty much it.)
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	I shake all over, but I feel alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintsurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/gifts).



> I present: the first ever fic I actually went through with posting!  
> A massive thank you and xoxo to Kel; I think this would probably still be sitting on my desktop collecting figurative dust if not for you. For beta-ing, releasing the ftm!Mac bee into my bonnet, pinging around all those amazing slam-poetry-esque fic ideas, volunteering your friend for this and just generally being a lovely person. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This work includes graphic sex between a cis male and a trans male. While it has been looked over by a trans man and given the okay, I am still a cis woman. Everyone's experience of their bodies differs, so if graphic description of privates in a sexual context is something that triggers dysmorphia or discomfort for you, please don't read this. While Mac is clearly described as male and I tried to avoid misusing gendered language, I don't claim to be perfectly attuned to every potential problem or grey zone in writing a transgender character. I hope I could do it justice, though, and if you have advice or want to share your experience with me, that would be amazing. I'm also on Tumblr, @azurelacrima.

Jack wakes up that morning gradually, floating into consciousness with an ease that’s almost unfamiliar.

His mind feels warm and fuzzy, coherent thoughts just barely out of reach along with his body. He’s distantly aware of the outside world, but only through a thick screen of lingering sleep. After decades of the army and covert ops, he’s learned to appreciate a good night’s sleep like this, and so allows himself to rest in its comfort without a second thought. There’s no world to save today, only his mind to drift far away from all its complexities for once.

That’s when the muffled rustling and clunking sounds of someone register at the edge of his awareness, and usually that alone would have Jack’s instincts snapping him into action to reach for his gun, but something about this morning sets off none of his deeply ingrained alarm bells or compels him to tear himself out of his dreamy state. Instead, he arches his back with a quiet groan, burrowing deeper into the warm cocoon of his sheets and turning his head ever-so-slightly out of his pillow to breathe deeply in contentment.

He inhales the familiar non-scent of home and his apartment, a lazy Sunday morning like they so rarely have; along with the faint-

Wait, no. Along with the strong, fresh smell of bacon and grease, almost but not quite covering the underlying note of something bright and strong, with a light hint of sweat but obviously recently showered. There’s a hint of spice in there, drawing up indistinct images of fires and explosions and breathless laughter in Jack’s mind, something savory like wood or pines or maybe even fresh grass – and there, that pure, distinct note of _love_ and _happiness_ and _bliss_. It calms something restless inside of Jack, and simultaneously pulls the last vestiges of that sleepy fog from his thoughts.  
  
The door creaks open quietly, steady footsteps moving that wonderful scent towards him. Jack feels the corners of his mouth twitch into a delighted smile, unfiltered by wakefulness. The mattress dips ever so slightly, and he feels the presence leaning down over him like a physical brand. Goosebumps break out over his entire body, when the faint caress of warm breath ghosts over his earlobe and a low voice whispers, “Good morning, big guy.”  
  
The faint smile on his lips widens into a full-blown grin, and Jack slowly turns over onto is back, eyes blinking open sluggishly to reveal bright, baby-blue irises twinkling softly above him.  
  
“Mornin’, darlin’”, he breathes out lovingly, painfully aware of every inch of the beautiful, lean body stretched out above his, despite his inability to see it. “Wh’tcha doin’ here, s’early in a mornin’?”  
  
His voice is slurred and heavy with sleep, drawing a fond chuckle from the man above him. Mac leans down to close the almost non-existent distance between them and presses a feather-light kiss to Jack’s slack lips, sending more fuzzy, disorienting feelings through his body.  
  
“First of all, it’s ten in the morning, and I’ve already been on a run. Second of all, I just wanted to see my beautiful, amazing boyfriend to bring him breakfast, is that acceptable?” Jack snorts inelegantly, body tingling both with bashful giddiness at how thoughtful his boyfriend is, and unbelieving sympathy for Mac’s poor legs, being forced on those inhumane trails so early in the morning. He wiggles his arms free from the covers and wraps them around Mac’s waist clumsily, pulling him down into his arms with a self-satisfied grunt. “Mhh, I’ll think on it ‘f you lemme cuddle you”, he rumbles out, a warm sensation spreading in his chest at the happy little snort Mac breathes into his neck.  
  
“Alright, but only if you let me underneath those covers with you, bucko”, he teases, and then there’s some shuffling and grunting before Jack finally sinks back into the mattress with the reassuring weight of his boyfriend wrapped in his arms and securely snuggled into his chest. Their legs are tangled together beneath the sheets, Mac’s upper thigh resting across his hips, bare skin on skin and the fabric of Jack’s black boxers. He must’ve lost the running sweats somewhere in the living room, he thinks fondly, hand squeezing tightly at a t-shirt clad side.  
  
“So, what d’you wanna do today?”, Mac breaks the peaceful silence after a few moments. Jack lifts his head to press a kiss into the crown of golden hair nestled just underneath his chin and thinks about it for a moment.  
  
“Absolutely nothin’”, he decides, squeezing at the exposed sliver of skin on Mac’s hip with his left hand, “’cept for you, darlin’.”  
  
Mac snorts into the naked expanse of Jack’s chest. “Silly, you can’t do m-“, he breaks off in realization, and huffs in exasperatedly. Jack can physically feel his eyeroll all though his body, and snickers unrepentantly into the mess of blonde hair.  
  
“You hopeless pervert”, Mac accuses, and Jack presses his steadily growing morning wood into his thigh with a dirty grin, tightening his hold on the body in his grip when it draws a tiny gasp from his boyfriend.  
  
“Never claimed somethin’ else, baby”, Jack says, dropping his voice into that deep rumble his darlin’ likes so much. It has the desired effect immediately, shivers teasing through the warm body curled around his, fingers clenching around Jack’s biceps. Mac suddenly shifts on top of him, rearranging their bodies until he’s perched atop the older man’s hips, groins pressed together in a warm clutch, sending little sparks of arousal through Jack’s very interested cock. Mac smiles down at him coyly, framing his stubbled jaw with firm hands and pressing down ever so slightly with a tilt of his hips, drawing a guttural groan from Jack’s throat.  
  
He slides his hands up the smooth expanse of Mac’s exposed thighs in retaliation, thumbs digging into the sensitive inner parts firmly the way he knows he likes it best. His pupils are blown dark and wide, and something along the hard length of Jack’s dick gives a little twitch, trying to clench down on nothing. His grip on the beautiful thighs spread above him tightens in an answering reflex, hips grinding up into the delicious heat of- _the delicious heat of something damp above him_ , slowly soaking through both of their underwear.  
  
Jack’s moan is a dark, guttural thing, rumbling through the depths of his chest and his very being. His previously half-hard length is fully erect, straining against the confines of his boxers, and the last dregs of sleep-induced heaviness is fully gone from all of his limbs. He feels like he’s breathing through syrupy-thick air, lost in the flush of Mac’s beautifully reddened cheeks and the open pant of his mouth, lips lush and formed in an o-shape, almost like…  
  
“Whatcha want, sweetheart?”, Jack growls out lowly, hands flexing on Mac’s thighs. He’s gripping so tightly the skin has turned white and bloodless around the pads of his fingers and might even turn a pretty shade of faint purple later. He knows how much Mac loves the bruises their lovemaking leaves on him, how he’d show them off to everyone as a mark of pride if it was a little more socially acceptable. His boyfriend squirms on top of him.  
  
“I want-“, he hesitates, voice thick with arousal. “I want you to make me feel good, Jack. I want you to eat me out, please.” _  
  
Oh, fuck_. Jack’s breathing hitches at the desperate whine in his boyfriend’s voice, just barely tamping down on the urge to thrust up into the soaking, wet heat of arousal above him until he comes. His baby asked for something, and Jack will make sure he gets it.  
  
“On your back”, he orders, already tilting his body to roll them both over. Mac quickly complies in an eager flurry of limbs, somehow managing to wrestle his shirt off in the process, leaving them both bare except for their boxers. Jack takes the opportunity to lean down and press them both together from head to toe, hot arousal against hot arousal and latching onto the beautiful, unblemished skin of Mac’s neck, hands running over his bare hips to tug at the godforsaken fabric keeping his love from him.  
  
Mac’s legs, spread out to either side to bracket Jack’s body between them, come up towards his torso bent at the knee to help his boyfriend in removing his clothes, and he reluctantly parts with the gorgeous bruise he’d successfully sucked over his birthmark to lean back and throw the boxers somewhere across the room.  
  
Breathlessly, Jack takes in the sight spread across his bed. Mac, flushed and panting, legs spread in invitation and looking at him with so much open desire, cock hard and swollen between his legs, and below that his wet, dark pink folds, drawing Jack’s gaze like that of a starving man.  
  
He leans down slowly, making sure to hold Mac’s gaze, and lays several open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along the thin line of scarring marking the bottom of his pecs, lips lingering over the expanse of his sternum, pressing into the deep thrum of the heartbeat that sets the rhythm of his own. He flicks his tongue teasingly over a dusky nipple, basking in the pleasured little sigh it draws from Mac before sliding down the length of his body.  
  
Jack wedges his shoulders underneath the backs of his trembling thighs, keeping them splayed wide open to either side. His boyfriend’s breathing speeds up ever so slightly at the gesture, mouth falling open in that slack, well-fucked expression he wears better than any of his form-fitting henleys. Jack grips at Mac’s hips tightly, and blows out one long, hot breath over the folds below his mouth, drinking in the stuttering moan it elicits.  
  
Lowering his lips until they’re just barely teasing at the heated skin of Mac’s groin, he rumbles out, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby, gonna make you forget your damn name – my darlin’ always gets what he asks for.”  
  
And then he licks a long, wet stripe through the slick folds, savoring the dark, musky taste of his baby on his tongue, eyes fluttering closed on a silent moan echoed by Mac’s loud whimpering. His hips try to buck up into the sensation of Jack’s tongue, follow it of their own accord, but his grip is secure, and all Mac can to is fist his hands in the sheets around him and whimper some more, but it’s such a beautiful sound that Jack immediately rewards him for it by leaning back down and spearing his tongue right into the hot, quivering center of his pleasure, no warning or build-up at all, the classic Jack Dalton way.  
  
He drags the coiled muscle across Mac’s inner walls, making sure to press into his most sensitive spots on every swirl inside, but he knows this body inside out, knows exactly where to dig in the tip of his tongue and apply rubbing pressure, where to drag across the flat of it and draw it out over the now spit-wet folds and lick up his slick as if it’s the best thing Jack’s ever tasted in his life, which it quite possibly is.  
  
Jack closes the whole of his mouth on his twitching cock, seals it over Mac and flicks his tongue teasingly against the heated swell of it, sucking hard at him with a loud slurping sound that has Mac screaming and sobbing out garbled noises that might have been Jack’s name above him, pressing desperately into the delicious suction as far as he’s allowed by the iron grip his boyfriend still keeps on his hips.  
  
High, broken mewls of pleasure follow the path of Jack’s tongue when he drags it repeatedly across the wet folds, lapping at his boyfriend in between smaller, hard flicks of the tip of his tongue to the sensitive inner lips, Mac’s thighs quivering on his shoulders and calves pressing tightly into his back.  
  
Jack feels almost drunk on the sensation, on the headiness of lying between his darlin’s thighs like this and steadily turning his brain into mush. It’s not often that Mac asks for things, that he allows himself to think of his own needs before making sure Jack’s are completely satisfied; but after so many months of tumbling in the sheets with his overwatch, of learning each other’s bodies and preferences intimately, Jack sees a little less insecurity in his boyfriend’s eyes when he does, a little more excitement and less fear if maybe this will finally be too much. Intense and repeated exposure therapy have started to get through to him, make him believe that there’s nowhere in this world that Jack would rather be than tongue-deep between his legs and licking and sucking at him till he’s crying and babbling from oversensitivity.  
  
Mac’s cries have started growing steadily in volume and height, head thrashing from side to side judging by the rustling sounds; Jack doubles down on his activities, flicks and slurps and fucks his tongue into the tight, wet heat, fluid dripping down his chin onto the sheets below them. When Mac’s hips try to buck up into his mouth again, Jack is suddenly hit by an idea, and he removes his tongue from inside his boyfriend to press the broad of it tightly against his folds, slowly pulling it up through them and dragging his chin along after, sensitive skin parting around him and rubbing against his stubble. When he brushes over his twitching cock, Mac gives a low, choking sound, hips tensing up underneath Jack’s hands in one last attempted thrust, and falls back into the sheets in a boneless heap of melted muscle.  
  
Jack keeps mouthing at his boyfriend, pressing light little kisses to him until Mac is pawing at his shoulders weakly with soft little whines and pulling him up his flushed body. He settles between the sprawled legs gingerly, moan slipping past Jack’s mouth when the feeling of his still clothed rock-hard dick pressing against the damp spot of Mac’s groin.  
  
Jack stares down at the blonde vision in front of him for another moment, drinking in the sight of Mac’s half-lidded, clouded eyes and slack mouth, pulled into the hints of a smile but too loose and disconnected from his floating conscious to follow the impulses his brain is sending, hair spread messily over the white pillow underneath his head, flushed and panting from the exertion of his orgasm. The pink tip of a tongue darts out to lick at the wet trail of drool trickling from his bottom lip, and Jack has to actively tense the muscles of his thighs to keep from thrusting forward into him, underwear be damned.  
  
“J-Jack”, Mac breathes, hands pushing at the back of his head to draw him down into a messy kiss that’s really more tongue and moans than lips. He bites down on Jack’s bottom lip with a little giggle that has his stomach doing flips and loops, eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the shock of sensation it sends to his dick.  
  
“That was – so good”, he sighs, nuzzling at Jack’s face, tongue darting over the slick on his stubbled chin that isn’t all spit. It draws another weak moan from him, legs twitching to either side of his hips. “Want you… want you to f-fuck me, please.”  
  
Jack pants desperately against Mac’s throat, unable to control the tiny little grinds of his cock into the vee of his legs. “Are you sure, baby? Don’t gotta, if you’re too sensitive.”  
  
Mac grunts in discontent, pawing at Jack’s shoulders more strongly with determination. “I- I wanna. Now. _Please_.” His speech is slurred and petulant, and Jack has a brief flash of Mac pouting and stomping his foot with crossed arms, hiding his giggle at the mental image in the side of his neck.  
  
“Alright, darlin’, alright. Have to let me get off my underwear for that though.” Mac hums his approval into the air, releasing his grip on his boyfriend just long enough for him to shimmy out of his soaked boxers, cock snapping into the air between their bodies, an angry red and leaking at the tip. Jack takes a second just to soak in the sight of his erection hovering across Mac’s twitching entrance, already slick and sensitive, inner thighs covered with the red marks of beard burn, and it hits him like a freight train, the sheer weight of trust between them.  
  
Here he is, dangerous, seasoned killer, hovering between a beautiful man’s thighs that six months ago had a sobbing breakdown in Jack’s arms during sex because he’d told him that he didn’t _need to be afraid_ of opening up to him, of asking for things and expressing dislike when necessary, and that he didn’t have to constantly be the perfect partner to still be loved. That Jack wouldn’t walk away no matter what, even if he sometimes messed up or said something without thinking. And here he is, lying spread across his bed, legs and heart wide open for Jack to burrow into, trusting him with his most sensitive parts in the quiet assurance that he’d know when to push and when to stop, better than even Mac himself.  
  
It flashes across Jack’s body in waves both hot and cold, the bare truth of it settling in his stomach like a heavy stone while simultaneously lifting one off his chest; he’s amazed by it, flattered and moved, but at the same time can’t help but question himself. He sees his hands wrapped tightly around Mac’s waist and remembers all the times they’ve done similar things with much more sinister intentions; he feels the ghost of past blood splattering across his skin, painting the body below him with its residue. It does unspeakable things to Jack, that Mac is so comfortable lying here, open and vulnerable, when he knows better than maybe anyone else, remembers vividly the things his boyfriend is capable of, has done and would do again in his name or that of their country. And still, after seeing Jack’s brutality with his own two eyes, he blinks up at him in dazed anticipation, waiting for him to take further control of his body, bring him more pleasure where he’s caused so much pain in the past. There’s no flinch or tension or any hint of fear, nothing but open acceptance and pure love, and Mac pressing into the strength of Jack’s body, of his grip with so much potential for lethality.  
  
A large lump in the back of his throat makes him choke on his breath, and he can feel his eyes burning with unshed tears, emotions _brimming_ -  
  
“Jack”, Mac says quietly, concernedly, eyebrows furrowing. “Jack.”  
  
His hands slide up naked, quivering shoulders – _muscles built from and for killing_ – to wrap around his clenched jaw gingerly, a caress far gentler than Jack feels he deserves from anyone, but especially this man.  
  
“Look at me, Jack”, Mac instructs firmly but softly, and he blinks his eyes into focus to stare down into concerned blue irises. A charged beat of silence passes between them, and suddenly Mac’s face melts into one of comprehension. “Oh, _Jack_.” He says it reverently, sadly, like Jack’s name is a prayer to a martyred saint, like he deserves absolution of any of his sins.  
  
A thumb strokes slowly across his stubbled jaw, still damp with Mac’s come from just minutes ago. He holds his gaze firmly, without hesitating or blinking. “I love you, Jack. I trust you.”  
  
Steadily, he reaches down to grip at Jack’s hands, and brings them up to his face. Still holding his gaze unflinchingly, he presses a firm, hard kiss into both of his hands, stealing Jack’s breath away and drawing a broken whine out of his throat instead. Emotion threatens to overwhelm him for a moment, but Mac doesn’t move away or shake him or try to scramble out of his reach, even though he’s seen Jack have vivid episodes of PTSD before, and how violent they can get. He holds onto Jack’s hands and strokes them through it, riding the wave to completion together with his boyfriend, still wearing the same expression of love and admiration. He can feel himself shaking, so full of love he thinks he’s going to burst.  
  
“Jack”, he whispers, deep and intimate, “I’m here. I’m here.”  
  
Jack stares down at him in wonder, for five or ten or maybe twenty seconds, and finally releases a shuddering breath. Mac smiles at him, without any judgement or pity, but one silent question. There’s really only one answer for it, so Jack shifts his hips until the head of his hard cock is spearing through the wet folds of Mac’s insides parting around him, deep into his body.  
  
Blue eyes flutter closed on a breathless gasp, hands clenching down on Jack’s in a tight grip; his cheeks are coated by that beautiful, deep red blush that makes him look like he shouldn’t belong in this world, squeezing something tight around Jack’s heart.  
  
He rolls his hips experimentally, ever so gently, to test out the waters of Mac’s pulsing insides, how hard and fast he can play this. Mac’s face scrunches up in a faint frown, mouth falling open on a desperate pant for air, almost as if he can’t decide whether he’s feeling pain or pleasure, or which is winning out over the other. When he opens his eyes with what looks like a great deal of concentration and difficulty, he’s- _Jesus_ , he’s actually a little _cross-eyed_.  
  
Combined with the rhythmic tightening of Mac’s walls around his cock, putting delicious velvety pressure on Jack’s own hot flesh, it drives his hips forward harshly, an almost automated reaction. Mac _wails_ , lower body arching off the bed, desperately pressing closer onto Jack’s cock and that’s it, that’s about as much as one man can humanly take.  
  
Digging his knees into the mattress for proper leverage, Jack gently uncoils his hands from Mac’s grip, places them back around his hips and _wrenches_ his boyfriend’s lighter frame up into his own, holding him up in the air at an optimal angle to thrust into his tight heat with one large hand on his lower back, the other one holding Jack’s weight on the mattress beside his body. And then, to the background noise of their combined grunts and moans and pants and whines, he lets go of the last thin tethers of self-control attached to his hips and does his utmost to ruin Mac’s body with an earth-shattering orgasm.  
  
He keeps his thrusts hard and deep, knowing that shallow won’t cut it here; he knows Mac’s body, knows it almost as well as his own, and this isn’t Mac who wants it slow and gentle, like before when he was asking to be eaten out all bashful and sweet and batting his eyelashes. This is Mac who wants it fast and rough, who needs to be fucked until he’s crying and babbling for it to never end; who comes untouched at the mere act of deep-throating Jack, who presses into an iron grip around his throat with a whine of desperation instead of fear, who once purposely wobbled around Jack’s apartment with a dopey smile on his face and explained that he wanted to feel the pull of it, how proud it made him that his boyfriend fucked him so good his legs still wouldn’t quite hold his weight half an hour later, muscles turned to goo.  
  
That’s what Mac wants right now, what he needs Jack to do for him; and even after his little breakdown, he has never felt surer of his ability to do so, overcome by the intrinsic feeling that he might’ve been built just to care for Mac, and make him feel good. Jack would never do anything else, because he simply doesn’t know how to.  
  
He’s pounding into his boyfriend’s body now, hips snapping into the tight pressure with a wet squelching sound every time his cock slides through on a thrust in or out. Spurred in by Mac’s deep, guttural gasps and moans, Jack presses their foreheads together, and works his cock into him with several short, powerful thrusts, fingers digging into naked skin and the bedspread at the dirty, wet slapping noise his balls make when they collide with Mac’s perineum. The younger man groans, hands scrambling frantically over the expanse of Jack’s back, short nails drawing little red lines into it, tongue swiping at Jack’s lips without any finesse or coordination, just pure desire to feel his boyfriend against him as close as possible.  
  
He leans down to clamp his mouth shut over Mac’s neck, biting and licking at his birthmark while keeping up his unforgiving pace, brain slowly losing all coherent thoughts. He can feel his cock twitching into the sensitive walls, balls starting to draw up tightly in preparation - Jack’s brain is reduced to sounds and smells and impressions, and all of it screams _mine mine mine_ , from the sweet, musky scent of Mac’s desperate arousal intertwined with the way his flesh gives so easily around his advances, to the delicious pressure of their heated skin sliding against each other, like they can’t get enough until they’ve become one entity.  
  
Soft little mewls of _ah, ah, ah_ , dictate the rhythm of Jack’s hips now, the tense muscles of his abdomen rubbing against the hot, wet press of Mac’s cock on every thrust; it’s coating Jack’s skin in the evidence of his baby’s pleasure, stroking something deep and primal inside of him, the same part that croons every time Mac asks for his mouth between his legs, because he’s making him feel good but he also gets to wear the proof all over his face, an unmistakable signal to the entire world that he’s a taken man, and their ownership is mutual and absolute. It delves into that most basic part of Jack’s instincts, what Mac jokingly calls his “cave-man self”; but for all his teasing, he knows how much Mac loves that side of him, has the undeniable proof of him clutching wetly around his cock every time he lets loose a deep, possessive growl into the side of Mac’s neck, of that glassy-eyed stare when he goes all Delta-Jack-Dalton on unsuspecting idiots who try to lay their hands on what’s his.  
  
“ _Jack, oh Jack – please please please, Jack, I need- please-_ “, Mac chants, hips fucking himself onto Jack’s cock in tandem with his thrusts as much as they can, as much as the minimal leverage Jack is giving him will allow him. Another time, this is where he would pull out, leave Mac hanging on the edge, maybe get out a vibrator until he’s edged into a pit of incoherency, until drool and come is smeared over his face, but today Jack himself is too close, too wound up to stop, and he places the hand not supporting Mac’s lower back over his cock, gives him what he asks for without teasing or pushing any further. Mac’s body convulses all around Jack, fingers scrambling over the tense muscles of his back. His cock pulses underneath the large, calloused fingers, and with a loud scream of “ _Ohh- oh, Ja-ack-_ “, he tenses up over, slick dribbling wetly out around Jack’s cock, setting off his own orgasm as well. Jack’s weight drops down onto Mac, pressing him into the mattress, and he gasps gutturally into his neck, hips hunching with desperation, pressing his cock as deep and close as it’ll go into Mac’s body, jerking almost painfully through an orgasm so intense his vision whites out for a moment.  
  
It washes over him in waves, each new pulse leaving him a little more sensitive, until he finally stills against his boyfriend, muscles slack and unable to move even if he wanted them to. He’s humming softly into his boyfriend’s neck, though most of his attention is still focused on the little shocks of electricity zapping through his spent cock every time Mac squeezes around him again, sending them both into shivering aftershocks.  
  
Jack doesn’t know how long they lie together like that, skin on skin and breathing each other in; he loses himself in the intense musk of Mac’s pleasure, wrapped tightly his warmth all around his body. His world is reduced to the places where their skin meets, and dimly, Jack wonders if he’s even capable of untangling himself from this beautiful creature anymore, or if he’s meant to live the rest of his days just like this – it feels like he is. This is where he belongs, he thinks with a certainty he hasn’t had in a long time for anything in his life.  
  
Slowly, he becomes aware of Mac’s rough, sex-broken voice whispering sweet nothings into his ear. There’s an “I love you” and his name in there somewhere, and the repeated litany of “make me feel so good, so full”. If he hadn’t just come literal seconds ago, Jack thinks it would probably be enough to get him going again, but it’s only morning and they have the whole day to dirty the rest of his apartment some more.  
  
“Darlin’”, Jack slurs, raising his head to blink Mac’s beautiful, woozy smile into focus. He looks sex-dumb and ravished, pupils still blown wide and cheeks red with exertion. “Ain’t never felt nothin’ like you, baby.”  
  
It draws a happy little chuckle from him, tapering off into a shocked little half-moan-half-gasp when the movement of his body causes Jack to twitch inside of him, and he leans up to press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss into his lips, careful not to shift too much and cause more pain than pleasure. Mac sighs contentedly into his mouth, tongue sliding over Jack’s with all the languor of a cat lazing around in the morning sun.  
  
“I – love – you – babe”, Mac whispers against his lips in between affectionate kisses, tongue swiping over Jack’s lower lip teasingly before he rests his head back against the pillow, smiling up at Jack with so much open and honest emotion on his face his heart skips a beat. Chest squeezing tightly in on itself, he remembers a time when vulnerability like this scared Mac, when the most intimate gesture he could bear was a fist bump or a slap on his shoulder. And things aren’t perfect, not by a long shot; sometimes his boyfriend still curls in on himself, keeps his fears and wants close to his chest because he worries that it might result in Jack leaving. Sometimes Jack’s own ghosts catch up to him, like today, and he needs to be talked down from another meltdown. And sometimes their edges grate against each other, frayed nerves resulting in tears and sharp words and storming off into opposite directions. But all of that is nothing compared to this, sharing something so beautiful and intimate with the man he loves more than anything; a thousand bullets and broken bones would still be worth getting to have Angus MacGyver in his arms like this, if that’s what it took.  
  
“I love you too”, he says, voice choked and eyes burning. “So much.”  
  
Mac’s gaze is gentle, hands stroking across Jack’s back in a soothing up-and-down motion, stopping only sometimes when he feels a particularly hard knot underneath his skin and rubs over it to loosen it a little.  
  
“D’you wanna talk about before?”, he asks, non-committal and soft, still giving Jack an out like always – and it is an out, he knows, if he says no right now it’ll end the conversation immediately, as it would vice-versa. But this isn’t a new, raw issue, it’s a recurring nightmare he’s been dealing with in some way, shape or form ever since meeting Mac or maybe even Riley.  
  
He stays quiet for several seconds, trying to gather his thoughts enough to come up with something that’ll make sense to Mac.  
  
“I’m… I’m just really lucky, that I get to have this. You. That you trust me with this”, he finally settles on, hoarse and more than a little nervous. It’s an irrational fear, but part of Jack can’t help but think that maybe pointing it out verbally will make it obvious to Mac how damaged he is, how hard living with his kind of trauma can be, never mind that the younger man shares some of it and has experienced enough of his boyfriend’s episodes to be starkly aware of it already.  
  
The blonde’s face is thoughtful, obviously mulling over Jack’s words. His fingers dig into a particularly painful knot in his lower back, causing him to groan as the relief of pain sends another small, fiery stab through his cock.  
  
“I don’t think so”, he says suddenly, halting Jack’s entire world in its tracks for one horrible moment. He can feel his face fall, a cold, empty pit opening up in the bottom of his stomach-  
  
“No, wait! Not like that!”, Mac hurriedly tacks on, hands tightening on Jack’s back. It alleviates the shock a little, but he can’t quite let go of the tension entirely. His boyfriend is looking at him with wide eyes, words tumbling out of his mouth in a borderline panic. “What I meant is that I don’t agree this thing between us is because of luck. Not as in I don’t want you or anything, that’s ridiculous – I do, very much”, he emphasizes, nose nuzzling into Jack’s cheek apologetically. It drains out most of the tension in his frame, prompting Mac to continue.  
  
“I think meeting you was maybe luck and being paired together definitely was. But… Jack, I’m not naïve. I know what kind of missions special forces take on, and the CIA’s dirtier work. But I don’t trust you despite yourself, I trust you because you’re you. You proved to me that I could, that people could be different and not abandon me all the time. That’s not luck, that’s you being amazing.”  
  
Jack’s mouth drops open in wonder, staring down at a bashful Mac whose cheeks bloom in the most beautiful blush he has ever seen, smiling tentatively as if he hasn’t just tilted Jack’s whole world off his axis, as if he didn’t just bulldoze straight through all of the ugly voices he’s built his self-esteem on and soothed something so old and gnarled deep in his chest it barely even resembled a scar anymore.  
  
“You don’t scare me, Jack”, Mac says quietly, with the same conviction he has as when he’s explaining the science behind gravity or cobbling together an improvised IED. He can feel the tears burning behind his eyes slowly sliding over his cheeks, but all Mac does is press their foreheads together and hold Jack even closer. For once in his life, Jack doesn’t know what to say to that, is lost for words, but he doesn’t need them for Mac to understand.  
  
“Thank you, darlin’”, he manages through a quiet sob, arms flexing around the incredible treasure in his arms pressing loving kisses into his maybe not that damaged skin. “I love you so much.”  
  
Mac smiles, and draws him into a kiss, bodies still connected.


End file.
